


ever just as sure

by ariadne_odair



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, M/M, References to Depression, STEVE AND BUCKY ARE BOTH LITTLE SHITS, and all their friends have a front seat to it, and dumb, clint and sam are DONE, steve works at an animal shelter and bucky works at the va, they were in the army together and now, they're in love???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-10-14 05:15:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20595302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne_odair/pseuds/ariadne_odair
Summary: “Your boyfriend is here.”It’s take Steve a second to realise Sharon is talking to him; it then takes him even longer to respond and to stop choking on his reply. “I - er, is he?”Sharon eyes him up like he’s lost his mind. “Well, the guy currently parking his crappy car in our car park is definitely not mine.”Steve and Bucky are idiots. They're also in love. Obnoxiously so. Alternatively titled: Five times someone has a front-row seat to Steve and Bucky's relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first thing I've written in so long and honestly, idk what this is. all i know is i had four other drafts in my google docs and somehow this is what happened. i feel the tone in this chapter is a little off but i have ideas for the next chapter which i like, so i am hoping to get steve's character a little more developed. it's kinda scary posting after so long and this isn't betaed or anything so? be gentle! 
> 
> an - all you really need to know about this fic is that steve and bucky are dating and steve works at an animal shelter. (he didnt always but that's for later chapters SPOILERs lol)

“Your boyfriend is here.”

It’s take Steve a second to realise Sharon is talking to him; it then takes him even longer to respond and to stop choking on his reply. “I - er, is he?”

Sharon eyes him up like he’s lost his mind. “Well, the guy currently parking his crappy car in our carpark is definitely not mine.”

Steve hasn’t lost his mind, he’s just trying to figure out if Sharon’s a homophobe or not. Not that Steve like, automatically assumes everyone is a homophobe, but he also can’t automatically assume everyone in this small town in America is okay with two men in a relationship.

For example, this weekend, he and Bucky were in the club and Bucky was trying to convince Steve to fuck in the toilets - which Steve was refusing because basic hygiene, but probably would have caved to in a few more minutes if Bucky kept kissing his neck like that.

But before they got to what would have been really hot - if dubiously hygenic - bathroom fucking, some jerk saw them and called Steve ‘a fag,’ which reulted in the bouncer kicking the guy out, but not before Steve punched him. Also not before Steve gained a black eye of his own. He and Bucky were crap at trying to cover it up, so they ended up caving and calling Natasha over to help.

Steve was a bit worried about work, but Steve works at a no-kill animal shelter. Turns out, people don’t really notice your appearance when there are _puppies_.

Point is, Steve likes this town and likes this job and he really likes Sharon, even if they’ve only been colleagues for a few months. And it would suck if Sharon does turn out to be a homophobe and Steve has to have his second fight of the week, when it’s only Tuesday.

Steve glances at Sharon, a little hopeful, a little resigned. Before he can say anything, Sharon cuts in. “It’s definitely not my boyfriend, because my girlfriend is picking me up and she’s arriving in thirty minutes.”

Steve feels the pressure lift off his chest and he smiles so widely it hurts his cheeks. Sharon gives him a small smile, rolling her eyes when he grins ever wider. “I’m just going to finish the paperwork for that final adoption, you can leave early if you like.”

Steve thanks her and promises to owe her one, which she waves off. They both know Steve already does over his hours, raising awareness for the shelter in his own time. Fundraisers and bake sales and trying to get as much footfall as possible.

Sharon settles down at the main computer, tapping away. Steve leans against the reception counter, waiting for Bucky. It’s quiet and calm; just the tap of Sharon’s typing and the soft hum of the lights in reception. His muscles ache pleasantly from cleaning out all the kennels and tucking all the animals into bed half an hour ago.

There is a click of a door handle. Steve looks up, heart beating a little quicker as Bucky walks through the door. Steve wonders if it will always be like this, even after knowing each other their whole childhoods and dating for four years now. If he’ll always feel his stomach drop, his heart flutter like the wings of a bird in his chest, that rush of anticipation and nerves and excitement everytime he sees Bucky.

Bucky has his hair shoved into a messy tail. He looks tired but soft, like all his edges are muted. His hands are shoved into the pockets of an oversized hoodie and he’s double-knotted his laces. What a goof.

Bucky strolls up to the desk casually. Steve says the first thing that comes into his mind. “Hello, Sir, how can I help you today?”

Bucky’s eyes widen, but he catches on quick. He leans forward, resting his palms on the counter. “Well,” his eyes flick to Steve’s name tag, “_Steve_, I would hope so.”

Steve’s lips quiver with the effort of keeping a straight face. “Have you been to the shelter before?”

“Yep.”

This roleplay thing is actually pretty hard. Steve frowns. “Um, well maybe I can tell you about some of the animals we have that would love a forever home.”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, that’s okay. I actually already have a pet.”

He already has - Steve’s eyes widen. He and Bucky don’t have any pets. Has Bucky -

It’s Bucky’s turn to look alarmed. He drops his voice. “Baby, I haven’t actually brought a dog.”

Oh. Steve knew that. Obviously.

“I knew that,” Steve sniffs, “obviously. Now back into character.”

“Back into character he says,” Bucky mutters. “You’re such a little - right. Okay. Yes, I already have a dog.”

“You do?” Christ, he and Bucky are terrible at this.

“Yes,” Bucky says seriously. “He’s this scrappy, little thing. Eats everything. Always getting into fights. With everything and everyone - “

“Okay, that’s enough,” Steve interjects, and Bucky bursts into laughter. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Yeah, I’m the asshole,” Bucky smirks. He reaches forward and smacks a kiss to Steve’s cheek. He has to lean across the desk to do it and his lips are warm and soft against Steve’s skin. “Come on, Rogers. Move your ass.”

“You two are so weird,” Sharon comments. Steve, who had completely forgotten she was there, jumps so hard his knee hits the underside of the desk.

“Ow, shit - Sharon! Have you been there the whole time?”

Sharon blinks once. “Steve, where else would I have been?”

Fuck, Steve is such a disaster. He wishes the ground would just swallow him whole. He’s like that - that meme Clint is always showing him. With the columns. A disaster bisexual. A disaster bi whose co-worker just saw him flirt awkwardly with his boyfriend by _role-playing as his own job_. Steve is going to die of embarrassment.

“We’re going,” Steve says hastily. “Come on, Bucky.”

Bucky is being exactly zero fucking help in Steve’s moment of need. Bucky is physically wiping the tears from his eyes, he finds the situation so funny. Steve makes sure to barge into Bucky’s shoulder as he walks towards the exit.

The evening air is cool, the breeze whipping around his neck and sliding under his collar. Steve huddles into his jacket. A moment later, Bucky’s prosthetic arm is wrapped around Steve’s waist, pulling him closer to Bucky’s side.

Steve doesn’t resist, but only because he’s fucking freezing. “Thanks for all the help back there, pal.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. Steve isn’t even looking at him but he knows he’s doing it. _He knows_. “C’mon. That wasn’t even in the top ten of your most awkward moments. Do you remember the time you - “

“No.”

“You didn’t even know what I was going to - “

“I don’t need to know ‘cause I don’t wanna remember it.”

They’ve reached Bucky’s shithole of a car now. Steve wriggles out from under Bucky’s arm and deliberately leans against the side of Bucky’s car. Deliberately, because there’s a 89% chance Bucky will kiss him in this position.

Bucky arches an eyebrow and gives him a look that _says I know exactly what you’re doing_. Steve doesn’t really care; Bucky’s hot and his boyfriend and Steve wants him to kiss him. He widens his stance a little and Bucky honest to god rolls his eyes - always with the eye rolling - but doesn’t disappoint.

Bucky kisses him slow and sweet and soft. Like he has all the time in the world. Steve opens his mouth willingly under Bucky’s, fists a hand in Bucky’s hair and pulls him forward. Their bodies are so close, Bucky’s hands clutching at Steve’s hips hard enough to bruise. Steve feels as much as he hears Bucky’s whimper, swallows the sound as Steve’s hips grind forward.

When they break apart, their breathing is loud in the still night air. Steve curves a hand around Bucky’s neck. He presses his mouth to that space just under Bucky’s jaw, the spot Steve likes so much. Bucky moans as Steve kisses and bites the sensitive skin there, watches as the skin bruises under Steve’s lips. Bucky lets out a bitten-off curse and Steve pulls back. His lips feel wet and bruised.

“Take me home, Barnes,” Steve whispers.

Then he smacks Bucky’s ass and walks off.

Steve can hear Bucky swear as he climbs into the car. Steve’s eyes flick pointedly to the obvious bulge in Bucky’s pants. Bucky catches him looking and gives him the middle finger.

Bucky rests his hand on the back of Steve’s chair as he looks behind him, before he pulls the car out of the lot. He goes to put his hand back on the wheel, but Steve catches the hand of Bucky’s prosthetic arm and kisses the fingertips.

The road seems to go on for miles in front of them. Steve’s hands itch for a sketchbook, to shade the way the shadows play across the road, the soft lights of the car. Steve watches Bucky’s air freshener, transfixed as it sways back and forth. Clint brought it for Bucky last year; it’s in the shape of a raccoon, some weird inside joke between the two.

“Sharon has a girlfriend.”

“Ah, sorry, Stevie, I really thought you were in with a shot there.”

“I know. I’m devastated.”

Bucky, who knows Steve better than he knows himself, gives him a sly look. “Yeah, devastated you couldn’t start a rousing debate about truth, justice and equality.”

“I’m saving it for the next bigot we meet.”

“You saving a right hook, too?”

Steve doesn’t dignify that with an answer.

Bucky pulls to a stop at a red light. “Hey, you wanna get take-out?”

Steve shrugs. “I could go for take-out. What are you feeling?”

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

Steve snorts. “Uh, right.”

Bucky scowls at him. “What are you saying, Rogers?”

“I’m saying you always say you don’t mind, then you hate what we order. And then you eat everything on my plate anyway.”

“I have never,” Bucky states firmly, “done that in my life.”

“You’ve done it sixteen times.”

“That’s ridiculous - what are you doing?”

Steve scrolls through his phone until he gets to his note app. He waves his phone triumphantly and clears his throat. “On the 16th of June, we ordered Mexican and you said - “

Bucky slams his hand on the steering wheel. “That is not true - “

Steve talks over him. “On the 8th of August I wanted Thai and you - “

“Did you actually record all of this?” Bucky demands.

“Yes,” Steve lies. He hasn’t. He just likes to fuck with Bucky. “Do you want to hear about the 2nd of September?”

-

Bucky pulls into their house, parking the car and turning off the engine. He looks at Steve, grey eyes framed by thick lashes. Steve reaches out and runs a hand through the ends of Bucky’s hair. “I like your hair like this.”

There’s a blush dancing across Bucky’s cheeks. He dips his eyes, suddenly shy. Steve lifts his chin gently and Bucky closes the gap between them and kisses him. He doesn’t pull away when they kiss, just rests his forehead against Steve’s, achingly tender.

“Steve,” Bucky murmurs. They’re so close Steve can feels Bucky’s breath.

“Yes,” Steve murmurs back.

  
“I - I can’t - “

Steve hums, catching Bucky’s mouth in a quick kiss. “Hm?”

“I can’t - “ Bucky’s trembling. “I can’t believe you asked Sharon if she’d been there the whole time!”

Bucky bursts into laughter and it becomes apparent why Bucky was shaking; he was trying to hold his laughter in.

“You’re a terrible person,” Steve tells him. He unclips his seatbelt. “And I’m ordering Thai.”

“I love you!” Bucky shouts. Steve slams the car door shut and tries to hide his smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this is kinda scary. hope you liked it?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a shorter chapter (i think) and ill probably edit it a bit, but i am already late to see my friend, so enjoy! hopefully! someone save me from myself lmaaao

“Clint needs us to pick him up.”

Steve looks up from where he’d been doodling on his sketch pad. “Hm?”

Bucky pads into the kitchen, rubbing a towel through his hair. He’s in pink fluffy socks that Natasha brought him last Christmas, sweatpants and absolutely nothing else. “Yeah, his car broke down and he needs a lift home.”

Steve peers over his sketchbook at Bucky’s abs. It seems a shame to ignore them when they’re just - there, like that. “How’d his car break down?”

Bucky shrugs, slinging the towel around his shoulders. He tosses his phone to Steve, who catches it. “I don’t know, he just texted me. I’m going to get dressed then I’ll grab my keys.”

Steve scrolls through Bucky’s phone. There’s a text from Clint and he clicks on it.

**barton**: may have

**barton**: may have broken my piece of shit care

**barton**: car*

**barton**: pls come save me from the side of the road 

**barton**: hang on some guy just asked if i want a lift

**bucky**: dont get in his car 

**bucky**: or do i dont care 

**bucky**: i just wanted to be able to tell steve i technically did tell u not to do it so i dont get the steve rogers disappointed face ™ 

**barton**: he had a suspicious rug in the back so i Politely Refused

**bucky**: ????

**barton**: the rug had blood stains and i think something was moving underneath

**bucky**: christ stay where you are we’re on our way

**barton**: like ive got anywhere else to go BUCKO

Steve snorts at the messages. He exits out of the text, grinning when he sees Bucky’s background photo. Bucky has had the same phone background for as long as Steve can remember. It’s him and Bucky before they signed up for the army. Steve looks tiny, Bucky’s arm slung over his shoulder and Steve leaning into him. Steve’s all sharp angles and fragile bones. Bucky looks classically handsome, his dark hair much shorter than it is now and neatly swept back. They can’t be more than sixteen. 

Warm hands card through his hair and Steve tips his head back against the couch, looking up at Bucky. “Clint has probably been murdered by now.”

Bucky hums and bends down to drop a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “If he hasn’t been yet, he will be once Tasha finds out.”

Steve snorts. “Tash probably already knows.”

Bucky tugs at Steve’s hair until he slaps Bucky’s hands away. “Bet you five bucks that Thor knew before her.”

Steve’s eyes him suspiciously. “That’s an oddly specific bet.”

Bucky shrugs. “Not really. That guy acts like he can’t catch a fucking clue, then bam. Weirdly insightful comment.” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together. “And don’t get me started on that brother of his.”

“Why not?” Steve asks, sliding off the sofa. He shoves his feet in his sneakers and balances his foot on the coffee table to tie the laces. His mother would kill him if he did that back home. “It’s been a month since your last rant about the Odinsons - why not push the boat out.”

“Well, their hair for a start,” Bucky begins, and Steve hides his smirk in the crook of his mouth.

  
  


-

  
  


Even in the endless expanse of highway, it’s painfully obvious to pick Clint out. He’s sprawled by the side of the road, in a bright purple hat. It has a fluffy bobble on top. Bucky rolls down the window and stares at him for a moment. “What are you wearing?”

“Thank _fuck_,” Clint moans. He yanks the side of the car door, but Steve’s pressed the child lock just to be a little shit. “Why won’t your shit car open?”

“Why are you wearing that shit hat?” Bucky retorts. “It’s the middle of August, how is your head not on fire?”

“I wanted you to be able to see me,” Clint answers, gesturing to the miles and miles of no humans in the vicinity. “That’s what they say in all the survival films.”

Steve leans over Bucky to take in the absolutely monstrosity on top of Clint’s head. “Survival films told you to wear a really shit hat?”

Clint now has both feet braced against Bucky’s car and is trying to force the door open that way. “No, to stand out so people can spot me. Open the door, Rogers, I know this is your doing.”

Bucky glances over to Steve, then to the child lock, then back to Steve. “_Babe_,” Bucky reprimands, if a reprimand can sound like drizzled honey and sugar.

Bucky pops the lock and Clint scrambles in the backseat. Bucky checks his mirrors before pulling away. Steve twists around in his seat to talk to Clint. “Clint, where’s your car?”

Clint sighs. “They towed it.”

“How did you crash it?” Steve asks.

Clint hunches in his seat. “I - uh, so I went to see the clown film.”

“_Clint_!” Steve and Bucky says at the same time.

“Yeah. yeah, I know. I don’t know what possessed me either. It was shit scary and now I’m hitting potholes, because a coyote ran out and my shit little fear brain had a heart attack.”

“What an idiot,” Bucky snickers. Clint kicks the back of his chair. 

Clint leans forward, shaking Steve’s arm through the gap between the seats. “Hey, can we get McDonalds?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “We’re not going to McDonalds. You need a shower and I need a nap.”

“What does Steve need?”

“A blow job,” Steve mutters, just to make Clint squeal in disgust, which he predictably does.

Bucky pats his knee. “Not while I’m driving, honey. One of us can’t crash the car.”

“Hey,” Clint scowls. “Please, Buck, I’m starving.”

Bucky sighs. “No.”

“Please.”

“No. You always leave your trash in my car.”

“Don’t be a baby!”

“Don’t crash your car and then you can go to McDonalds whenever you want, fucker.”

“You are - “

Steve’s stomach rumbles loudly.

Bucky glances at him. “Do you want food?”

Steve shrugs. “I could go for Macs.”

“Okay,” Bucky answers easily.

Clint kicks the back of Steve’s seat so hard that the car shakes. “What the _fuck_?”

  
  


-

  
  


They order so much food at McDonalds it’s a little disgusting. Bucky refuses to let Clint go inside the store, so they order it all at the drive through. The guy who hands it to them looks a bit alarmed, but Bucky shoots him a smile and then he just looks flustered.

Steve chews on his straw and tells himself that he is not jealous of Bucky smiling at the guy passing three bags of burgers through the window. 

Bucky, who knows Steve better than he knows himself, thanks the guy and then says, “My boyfriend is an eater.”

He slaps Steve’s leg obnoxiously, whilst Steve yelps, “Bucky!” in an outraged tone. Bucky doesn’t even care, just drives off, still laughing. 

Steve can almost forget Clint is in the backseat. Bucky is still laughing and Steve is hit by the sudden thought that Bucky is _beautiful_. Steve itches to trace the curve of his neck, the crinkles by his eyes. Bucky looks light and happy and Steve thinks these are the moments that matter. All the quiet moments, the ordinary moments, laughing in the car with the person who matters the most to you, surrounded by crappy junk food and with the radio playing.

Steve slides his hand into Bucky’s hair, cards his fingers through the soft ends. His hand cups Bucky’s cheek and Bucky turns his head, presses a kisses to Steve’s palm with his eyes still fixed on the road.

Steve drops his hand and reaches for the bags. He unwraps Bucky’s burger and gives it to him, He leans forward and steadies the wheel as Bucky eats his burger with one hand. 

Steve hands Bucky his drink, breaking the straw through the plastic for him. Bucky takes a long sip, handing it back to Steve when he’s finished. Their hands brush. Bucky’s fingertips are cold. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs, voice a little hoarse and tone achingly fond.

“You two are disgusting,” Clint mutters loudly and no-one calls him out on the lie. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me @ me: stop posting chapters before you have to do things
> 
> if there are any typos i apologise, i will be editing this chapter a little later to catch them all! i hope you enjoy the chapter!

Clint and Sam have been arguing for seven and a half minutes. Steve’s been timing it on his phone. Bucky, whose leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, blows his fringe out of his face with a sigh. “Do you think we can leave and just make-out around the back until the film’s over?”

“Uh. No,” Steve replies primly. “I will not make-out with you ‘around the back’. It’s freezing outside. I will, however, make-out with you in your car, provided you’ve actually cleaned it and it no longer smells of McDonald's.”

Bucky slants a look at him. “You like McDonald's.”

“Not when my tongue is down your throat.”

Clint stops in the middle of his impassioned speech to eye them suspiciously. “What did you just say?”

Steve blinks at him innocently. “Nothing romantic or sexual.”

Clint’s eyes narrow. “Good, because this isn’t date night. This is not a night for you and Bucky to be gross. This is not a double date.” He gestures wildly to him and Sam. “Sam and I are not dating. The only people dating are you two losers, but this is a night of friendship, okay? Not a night of Clint having to bleach his eyes because you and Bucky are in the bathroom stall shoving your - “

“Okay,” Sam interjects loudly. “I’m going to buy tickets - “

“You are not,” Clint hisses and then they’re off again.

They’ve been at the movies for - Steve checks his watch - twelve and a half minutes now and they still haven’t decided what film they’re going to see. Mainly because Clint and Sam want to see completely different films.

Clint wants to see a horror film about a mutant spiders, despite Steve knowing full well Clint will be absolutely terrified after and will completely regret it. Sam does not want to see a film about mutant spiders, not because Sam would be scared, but because Sam would just be bored whilst Steve and Clint are wetting themselves. (Sam’s a badass like that.)

Steve wants to see the film about the mutant spiders, because Steve likes horror films, despite Steve also knowing full well he will be absolutely terrified and will regret his entire life. Bucky says Steve has a complex about horror films, after Steve was refused entry to so many when he was younger, because he looked like a twelve year old for the entirety of his late-teens. 

Steve absolutely does not have a complex. About anything. Whatsoever. 

Sam and Bucky both want to see the latest Disney film. It is the only time they’ve ever agreed on anything. 

“You know he’s going to make us take a vote,” Bucky says in a bored tone. “Very democratic, Clint.”

“Well, someone in this country has to be,” Steve mutters. “Given the current state of the presidency.”

They watch Sam and Clint bicker some more. Bucky, who is beyond bored now, glances surreptitiously towards Clint, before slipping his hand into Steve’s. “Shall we go buy some snacks?”

“I’ll get the drinks, you get the popcorn?” Steve offers and Bucky nods.

They wander over to the counter. Bucky leans against the desk, smiling at the cashier. “Hey. Can I get two bags of sweet popcorn, please? Thanks.” He looks over his shoulder at Steve.”You want your usual garbage, sweetheart?”

“Yep,” Steve says, popping the pop.

“Freak,” Bucky coos fondly. Steve flips him off. “Can we have a bag of salty popcorn, as-well?”

Bucky pays and Steve joins him at the counter, so he can buy the drinks. He and Bucky jostle for space, elbowing each other like they’re little kids and not twenty six and twenty five respectively. Steve feels so stupidly happy he could float. They both smile sheepishly at the cashier when she clears her throat loudly.

“Uh, could I get a coke, please?” Steve asks ruefully and the girl just smiles good-naturedly at him. “Uh, actually, two cokes and a sprite. Buck, what do you want?”

Bucky shrugs. “I’ll just share yours.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Right.”

The cashier - whose name tag reads ‘Cassie’ - pauses in typing in their order. “You want me to make that first coke a large?”

“Yep,” Bucky says, before Steve can answer. 

Steve rolls his eyes and gets his card out.

They carry their mountain of popcorn back to Sam and Clint. Steve has a cup holder tray for all his drinks, so he’s okay. Bucky, on the other hand, is juggling four huge bags of popcorn. He’s managing it, though, because Bucky’s arm muscles are like. _Ripped_.

Bucky thrusts a bag of popcorn into Sam’s arms, abruptly ending his conversation with Clint. “Have you picked a fucking film yet?”

Sam shoots him an annoyed look. Bucky is only one who can completely rile Sam up with only a sentence. “That’s what we were doing, Barnes.”

“For half a fucking hour,” Bucky snaps. Bucky shoves a bag of popcorn at Clint, holds his and Steve’s popcorn in one arm, and hooks his fingers in Steve’s belt loops. “Disney or mutant spiders, what’s it going to be?”

“We should take a vote.”

Sam groans. “We already know how everyone is going to vote.”

Clint shrugs. “Maybe we should split up. Me and Steve can watch the mutant spiders, you and Bucky can - “

“_No_,” Steve, Sam and Bucky say at the same time. 

“No to Sam because he's an asshole,” Bucky says. “No to Steve, because me and Steve are going to make out in the back row.”

“Because I’m the asshole,” Sam mutters. 

Clint, sensing an opportunity, says quickly, “You can’t make out in the back row of a Disney movie.”

There’s a pause. Sam puts his head in his hands and mutters, “Man, I hate you so much, Barton.”

Bucky’s thumb is rubbing circles over Steve’s hips, absentmindedly. Steve reaches over and steals some popcorn from the bag in Bucky’s arms. Clint is chanting ‘mutant spiders, mutant spiders,’ under his breath. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I don’t care anymore, let’s just go see the spider film. Steve hasn’t taken any of my advice since we were six. It’s not like he’s going to listen now.” Bucky slants a look at Steve. “You’re going to be scared shitless, babe.”

“I’m not,” Steve lies. 

“You’re a traitor.” Sam tells Bucky, as Clint drags him by the wrist towards the screens. “Clint, I’m coming, _let go_ \- “

Steve bounces on the balls of his feet, catching the drinks before they spill over. “This is going to be great.”

Bucky laughs. “You’re going to be terrified tonight.”

Steve smiles. “It’s okay. We can make out during the scary parts.”

“So the entire film, then?”

“So the entire film."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steve, why would you want to see a mutant spider film, like wtf. 
> 
> only two chapters left of this! next one will see a cameo from a certain odinson and idk what the last chapter will be, lmao.
> 
> after this fic - and once my merthur fic is finished one chapter to go agh - i will be writing a regency stuck au i am HYPE and have also watched all of the lizzie bennet diaries in one sitting 
> 
> comments mean everything??? I am feeling shitty rn so I’m so grateful for all the comments and kudos thank you 🙏🏻


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one weekend, woo. 
> 
> Author's notes - there are mentions of depression in this chapter. Bucky is having a depressive episode and Steve is trying to support him through it. I'm not an expert on mental health and this chapter is built on my own experiences. Everyone experiences mental health differently and Steve is just trying to be there for Bucky as best he can.

Steve isn’t expecting a knock on the door on Sunday morning. 

Steve definitely isn’t expecting to open the door and find fucking _Loki_ stood on the step.

Steve stares at him. Loki arches an eyebrow. “Good morning.”

Loki somehow manages to look suave and fashionable and sophisticated, even though all he’s wearing is like. A black sweater and a black pair of jeans. Steve is wearing pyjama pants with watermelons on. He hasn’t got any socks on. His toes are uncomfortable in the cold air. “Uh. Hi, Loki.”

Then, because Sarah Rogers taught her son some fucking manners if not a sense of self-preservation, Steve feels obliged to awkwardly ask, “Did you want to come in?”

“Only if she can come in too,” Loki says, which is when he holds up the fucking cat.

The cat blinks at Steve. It’s black and fluffy and has big, green eyes, It’s pretty cute.

“Sure,” Steve shrugs. It’s not the weirdest thing to show up on his doorstep. There’s the incident with a drunken Clint and the unicorn floatie they never talk about. “The cat can come too.”

Loki follows after him. It’s a bit odd having Loki in his house; he doesn’t know him very well, met him through Thor, friend of a friend sort of thing. Steve not sure Thor and Loki even are friends - Loki and Thor are the only ones who seem to know what Loki and Thor are, Whenever Steve seems them together, they’re either arguing or making intense eye contact.

It’s a bit awkward in all honesty.

Loki settles elegantly on Steve’s old couch. Steve’s pretty sure Loki is wearing eyeliner. Steve wishes he could pull that off, but he definitely can’t. 

“So, what can I do for you?” Steve asks, after thirty two seconds of awkward silence. He can’t take anymore.

“Thor said you were a vet.”

That’s not what Steve was expecting. “Oh, yeah. I am.”

Has Loki been in the army? Steve didn’t think so. Maybe he wants to join.

Loki nods. “Good. I need you to tell me if she’s pregnant.”

“Who’s pregnant?”

“The cat,” Loki drawls, like it’s obviously. “Thor said you were a vet.”

“What - I - oh.” Steve’s brain clicks into place. “I am a vet but not - I’m a _veteran_. Not a _veterinarian_.”

Now it’s Loki’s turn to stare. “I see.”

Loki says ‘I see’ the way other men would say ‘I am going to gouge someone’s eyes out with a fork.’ Steve swallows nervously. “Maybe - maybe there’s been some confusion? What did Thor say to you?”

“That I should take the cat to you, because you’re a vet,” Loki says flatly.

Steve swallows. “Must have been a mix up, then.”

Privately, Steve knows this was one hundred percent not a mix up. This is not Thor misunderstanding cultural norms, this is Thor exploiting that cover up to be a little shit. Thor is notorious for pretending to be a complete idiot, just to fuck with people’s heads. 

By the look on Loki’s face, he knows it too.

Steve sighs. “Look, I do actually work at an animal shelter and we have a real veterinarian there. I could probably ask her to check your cat over for you? If I asked, she’d probably do it for free.”

“You would do that?” Loki asks, something indistinguishable in his tone.

“Well, not me personally. Kate is the main veterinarian - “

“I meant you would do that,” Loki interjects. “Ask your work to check my cat over, see if they could do it for free.”

“I mean I can’t guarantee anything,” Steve says nervously, unsure why Loki is looking at him with such an uncertain expression. “But, yeah, Of course.”

Loki purses his lips. “We don’t even know each other.”

Steve frowns. “I mean, sure we do. Sorta. But I’d do it for anyone - “

There’s a thump from upstairs. Steve twists in his chair at the sound, glancing up towards the stairs. “Look, I just have to check on something. I’ll be back in a minute. Just help yourself to coffee or anything.”

“Was that Barnes?”

Steve stands up, pulling at his pyjama pants self-consciously. “Yeah, he’s not feeling too great today. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Steve opens the door to their bedroom cautiously. Bucky is still in bed.

Its two in the afternoon. 

Sometimes, there are fun reasons for still being in bed at two in the afternoon.

Bucky’s still in bed because he’s been feeling depressed for the past two days.

“How are you feeling, pal?” Steve asks softly.

For a minute, Steve doesn’t think Bucky is going to reply. But then a rough voice answers, “Like my serotonin ain’t worth shit.”

Bucky is curled beneath the blankets. He hasn’t brushed his hair in two days, so it’s knotty and tangled around his head.Steve knows that will be driving Bucky crazy; half irritation at his hair tangling around his neck and half self-loathing at having no energy to do it himself.

Steve’s well-acquainted with the feeling.

Steve crouches beside the bed. “You want some water?”

Bucky stares at him dully. “Probably.”

Steve fetches him some water from the bathroom and places it on the bedside table. Bucky’s rolled over onto his back. He’s staring at the ceiling, gaze unfocused. 

Steve’s had his own share of depressive episodes; knows intimately the debilitating pressure on your chest, the physical and mental exhaustion. The self-hatred that comes with your brain listing all the things you _could_ be doing right now, _should_ be doing right now, why _aren’t_ you doing them, why are you so _lazy_?

Yeah. Steve’s well-acquainted with that little voice in your head that won’t shut the hell up when you’re feeling shitty.

Steve sits down on the bed beside Bucky, the mattress dipping under his weight. Sometimes when Bucky feels like this, he wants to be by himself. Steve gets it; sometimes he feels the same way. But Bucky hasn’t asked for space this time; he’d clung to Steve last night and asked him to stay and Steve had promised him he wasn’t going anywhere.

It had been in the early hours of the morning. Bucky hadn’t been able to sleep, staring dead eyed at the wall and fidgeting uncomfortably. He needed to shower and Steve knew the hot water would make Bucky feel better. But it’s a thin line between being supportive and being overbearing and Steve doesn’t always know how to tread it.

He’d decided to speak to Bucky about it in the morning, but for the time being he’d just pulled Bucky closer to him. 

“Until the end of the line,” he’d whispered, only half-awake, Bucky’s weight comforting in his arms. Bucky had shoved him and told him to go to sleep, but it had almost, almost made Bucky smile.

Steve sits back against the headboard. “Guess who was at the door?”

Bucky doesn’t reply, but that’s okay. Steve continues. “It was Loki.”

Bucky stirs a bit at that. “_Loki_?”

Steve laughs. “I know right? He was just there, on our doorstep. And I was dressed in my pyjamas, the watermelon ones, you know? The ones with ‘be my slice’ on the ass.” Steve’s properly laughing now. Bucky twists on his side, turning to face him. His eyes meet Steve’s, drop to to Steve’s mouth, the curve of Steve’s lips.

“Anyway, you’ll never guess why he’s here,”

Bucky curls a hand over Steve’s bicep. “Why?”

“He’s brought his cat!” Bucky snorts. “Seriously! I think Thor was trolling him, told him I was a veterinarian. He thinks his cat is pregnant. I don’t know if he like, thought I had an ultrasound in my kitchen or something.”

Bucky presses his forehead to Steve’s arm. His eyes are closed. “That’s so fucking weird.”

“I know.” Steve hesitates, brushing a hand over Bucky’s hair. “Do you - “

Bucky flinches away. “It’s greasy, I need to shower.”

Steve rubs his thumb over Bucky’s cheekbone. “Do you want me to bring the cat up? It’s black and fluffy.”

Bucky pulls the blankets up to his chin. “Loki won’t let you steal his cat.”

“Probably not. I’ll take a photo of it and then you can look at it later.”

“Kay.” When Bucky speaks next, his words are muffled by the duvet. “I’m going to force myself to stare at the shower tiles for thirty minutes.”

“Okay.” Steve drops a kiss to Bucky’s head. “I love you. I’ll try and steal the cat if I can.”

Steve passes the laundry cupboard as heads back downstairs. He makes a mental note to change the sheets while Bucky is showering. It won’t take him too long to make some mac and cheese from scratch, either.

“Sorry about that,” Steve apologises. He swipes one of the shelter’s cards from the side. “Here’s the address for the shelter. I’ll probably be there when you go in, but if not ask for Kate and tell her that Steve sent you. I’ll give her the heads up.”

“Thank you.” Loki takes the card, fluffy cat hoisted into his arms. He sounds distracted and Steve realises he’s looking at the painting on the wall.

“Do you like the painting?” Steve asks, walking over to it. “Buck - Bucky, my boyfriend, he got it for me last year.”

“I like the colours,” Loki says stiffly. 

Steve smiles. “Me too. There’s a new gallery opening up next month, I was planning to go see it.”

Loki sighs. “I know the one you mean. I’m trying to convince Thor to come, but he just wants to go to his idiotic baseball game.”

Steve clears his throat awkwardly. Loki slants a look at him. “Let me guess, you’re also an idiotic baseball fan.”

Steve laughs. “Guilty as charged. I promise they’re not that bad. Maybe you could go to a game and Thor could come to the gallery opening?”

“That would involve _compromising_,” Loki says disgustedly. “I’ll just find someway to blackmail him into coming with me.”

Steve gives up trying to understand their dynamic. (Not that he was trying that hard to begin with. Steve knows from experience it’s far better to just let people come to their own senses and things will work themselves out on their own.) “Okay then. Can I take a picture of your cat?”

Loki frowns at him. “Is this some kind of fetish thing?”

Steve chokes on his own spit. “I - what - no - “

Loki laughs. “Your face. I was just joking. Though, it’d be a lot more interesting if you did - “

“No,” Steve cuts him off. He can feel his face burning with embarrassment. “It’s for - Bucky. I wanted him to show him a photo.”

“Yes, you’re very in love, I know.” Loki pauses. “I can’t quite believe I’m - do you want to hold her and I’ll take the picture for you?”

Which is how Steve gets to hold the fluffiest cat he’s ever seen in his _life_. Steve is beaming like an idiot, which should be embarrassing as Loki is just standing there pretending to be bored, but Steve doesn’t care. There’s so much _fluff_.

“Her name is Fenrir,” Loki tells him, after snapping thirty different photos on Steve’s phone.

“I thought Fenrir was a wolf,” Steve says idly, stroking Fenrir under her chin. She purrs contentedly. 

Loki looks a little surprise. “He is. But I won’t let Thor get a dog. I would end up looking after it and I’ve already committed to providing for two annoying creatures.” He holds his arms out for Fenrir and Steve reluctantly passes her back over.

“Are you going to kick Thor’s ass for sending you over here, then?” Steve teases as he shows Loki and Fenrir to the door.

“That’s not what I’m going to do to Thor’s ass,” Loki mutters. “Thank you for the card, Steve.”

For the sake of his sanity, Steve pretends he didn’t hear the first part. “No problem. I might see you in the shelter in a few days, then?”

“You will.” Steve strokes Fenrir goodbye. He leans against the door, smiling as he watches Loki and Fenrir walk around the corner.

Steve smiles to himself. “So fucking weird.”

He shuts the door behind, shaking his head as it closes. A quick glance in the cupboards shows they have enough ingredients to make mac and cheese from scratch. Bucky hasn’t eaten much in the past couple of days.

He can follow his ma’s recipe. Bucky’s done the same for him, more times than Steve can count. Huddling with Steve on the couch after a panic attack, hot bowl grasped in his hands. 

Steve grabs his phone, taking the steps two at a time. If he listens, he can hear the shower running. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope people liked this chapter. I know it was a little different and I haven't written from the pov of someone whose partner is struggling with their mental health. so I'm a little uncertain on this chapter. My own mental health has been shitty atm which is why I am projecting it into all my fics sigh 
> 
> obviously changing sheets and making food doesn't make things magically better, (or taking cute cat photos), and steve knows that. he is just trying to support bucky as best he can.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! A lot of this fic came from no-where so I can only hope people liked it?

Steve is having a shitty day.

He wakes up late, slamming his alarm one too many times and paying the price for it. Bucky has already left, had an early shift at the VA. Steve skips breakfast because he doesn’t have time, meaning he’s hungry and grouchy and sleepy on his drive to work. 

Someone cuts him up as he’s pulling out of the drive. It’s not even a big thing, just some asshole who thinks he owns the road, but it makes tears flare inexplicably in the corner of Steve’s eyes. 

The fact he’s not going to see Bucky until tonight makes him even grumpier. He can’t even text Bucky throughout the day, because he forgot to charge his phone and it dies at approximately 11.03am. 

Someone called in a bunch of puppies abandoned in a box by the train tracks. Steve spends his morning washing and drying tiny paws, so it’s not all bad. It’s nearly half-way okay, until one of the little fuckers pees all over him.

Sharon opens her mouth to say something, but she takes one look at his face and just hands him a clean pair of scrubs.

It isn’t the puppies Steve has to worry about, they’ll be snapped up as soon as the photos are up. It’s the older dogs that take longer to find their forever homes. Steve spends his lunch break giving them extra long cuddles.

He must look pathetic when Sharon finds him; slumped against the wall of Rosie’s kennel, Rosie’s head pillowed in Steve’s lap. Rosie is a big old mix of a Labrador and probably six other dog breeds. She has one and a half ears; they don’t know what happened to the other half of her left one. 

“Rough day?” Sharon asks wryly.

Steve buries his face in Rosie’s fur and wallows in feeling awful. He’s so tired. It’s one of those days where everything is going wrong and he just wants to be back at home, in bed with Bucky. It’s days like these that he wishes he was small again, able to fit into Bucky’s arms and hide from everything. 

Steve doesn’t think he’s having a depressive episode. That feels different to this - smothering, treacherous. Like nothing will ever be okay again, like it’s not even worth trying.

This doesn’t feel like that. 

That’s a little comforting.

It’s just a shitty day, Steve reasons with himself. He’s overly tired and irritated. His stomach rolls unhappily; he feels a little nauseous from not eating this morning.

Sharon flops down beside him. “You want to hold a puppy?”

“No thanks. I’m good with Rosie.” She lifts her head at her name, wagging her tail slowly. 

Sharon reaches over and scratches her behind the ears. “You and the boyfriend going to get a dog?”

“Maybe.” He and Bucky have talked about it, getting a therapy dog. Clint swears down Lucky was one of the best things to ever happen to him. (That was a pretty emotional conversation actually, he and Clint were drunk on tequila and Bucky was away visiting his family. There was a lot of shots and crying and hugging, because neither Clint nor Steve have any time for toxic masculinity.) “What about you and Maria?”

Sharon flushes. “Maria and I haven’t even moved in together yet, Rogers. Not everyone is on your level.”

“No-one is on our level,” Steve says smugly and Sharon shoves him in the arm. 

“Come on.” Sharon offers him a hand up. Steve gives Rosie a final ear rub, before accepting the help. “I’ve got a phone charger you can borrow. You can let Barnes know about the puppy pee and he can send you a load of heart emojis.”

  


-

  


The day doesn’t get less shitty, but it doesn’t get any shittier either. Small blessings, as his mother would say. 

Steve pushes through it until closing time. He thanks Sharon as he leaves and she just smiles at him and takes her phone charger back.

It’s quiet and dark inside his car. Steve rests his forehead against the wheel for a moment, feels the leather smooth beneath his fingers. He takes a deep, steadying breath, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.

He drives to the restaurant where he’s meeting Sam, Clint and Bucky. The radio sounds too loud, buzzing in his ears, and he turns it down low. 

He pulls in the parking lot, parking next to Bucky’s car. It hits him that they won’t be driving home together and for some reason that upsets him all over again. It’s suddenly impossible to swallow, and Steve scrubs at his eyes harshly.

He slips out of the car before he can rile himself up anymore, hurrying across the parking lot. Clint and Sam are just visible through the glass, jostling each other as the waitress seats them. Steve watches as another man settles into the seat opposite, strong shoulders and dark hair pulled back into a loose bun.

The waitress smiles at him kindly and Steve slips into the seat next to Bucky. 

“Rogers!” Clint greets him loudly, leaning across the table to shove his shoulder. 

“You okay, man?” Sam asks, with half of Clint’s volume and triple his tact.

Steve shrugs. “Long day.”

He turns to Bucky last; holds out on meeting eyes with the one person who knows him better than he knows himself. It's a curious thing to be vulnerable; to lay yourself bare to another, to let someone hold your heart in their hands and trust they’ll treat it tenderly.

Bucky is looking at him.

Steve clears his throat, once, then twice. “It’s been a shitty day.”

Bucky leans forward, one hand on Steve’s thigh and another cupping his cheek. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Steve bursts into tears.

Bucky pulls Steve into his arms immediately. Strong arms wrap around him and Steve burrows into his chest, tucking his head under Bucky’s chin. His hand rubs gentle circles along Steve’s spine.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles eventually. He keeps his face turned away, feeling flushed and embarrassment. “It wasn’t even that bad. I was just tired and I - I’m being dumb.”

Bucky lifts Steve’s chin gently. “It’s not dumb.”

Steve shuffles, wiping at his eyes. “Always so dramatic, huh?” he jokes weakly.

“That’s my best guy,” Bucky answers easily. 

Steve sits back a little. Bucky tangles their hands together, fingers entwined. Steve exhales, feeling like he can breathe properly for the first time all day. The stone pressing down on his ribs has loosened a little; he feels a little better having cried, Steve notes.

Steve glances at his friends. Clint looks sombre. “Sorry, guys. Didn’t mean to make an entrance.”

Sam waves it off. “No worries, man. We’ve all been there. Sometimes things just build up, right? It doesn’t have to be the worst day you’ve ever had for it to still hurt.”

Steve is going to cry again. Clint kicks him under the table to get his attention. “I cry about crappy days all the time. Last Thursday, I forgot to fill up on gas and I cried for five minutes straight. It’s healthy. I read an article on how sad tears like, drain your blood of stress.”

“Do you - do you think that’s what the article says exactly?” Sam asks after a pause.

Clint glares. “Yeah, it was on WikiHow.”

Sam frowns. “A WikiHow on _how to cry_?”

Bucky taps Steve’s chin gently with his finger, recapturing Steve’s attention. Steve leans forward, kissing Bucky gently. Bucky’s mouth parts sweetly under his as Steve tilts his head, pressing as close as possible. The moment is soft and quiet and golden as the tears dry on Steve’s cheeks.

When they part, Bucky is looking at Steve like he set the stars in place. 

“There are going to be shitty days,” Bucky murmurs, voice a whisper between them. Steve rests his forehead against Bucky’s, let’s Bucky’s voice settle into his skin. “And they won’t last.” Bucky smiles. “But we will.”

  


-

  


Later, Steve eats some food and cries a bit more and puts on the watermelon pyjama pants. 

Much later, he curls up with his head in Bucky’s lap, Bucky’s strong hands carding through his hair. 

“I love you,” Steve tells him. 

Bucky presses a kiss to Steve’s forehead, like a promise. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little different I think and I wouldn't necessarily have ordered the chapters as I have, but this fic just decided to do what it wanted. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this and I hoped people liked it! 
> 
> I already have ideas for my next fic for these two after watching pride and prejudice three times over the weekend spoiler alert lol


End file.
